7. Candy

I walk down the pink cobble-stoned path in Cupidale toward my apartment building. Both Krampus and Mortem take in the sparkling night of my realm while I have an internal breakdown.

What if they change their mind? What if I go all the way with them, making my feelings deeper than they are now only for them to leave again?

They’ve been sweet tonight. In their own way, they are both showing me that they want this, that they want me. But I can’t help this lingering fear. I felt so confident all those nights ago about our connection. I just don’t want to get hurt again. Because after tonight, if they change their mind I’m not sure I’d ever come back from this.

I hold Mortem’s jacket tight against my skin. It’s not cold in Cupidale, it’s almost always a perfect low 70s temperature.

“Do you wish to do something else, Candy?” Mortem asks, and I startle slightly. I was so in my own head until he spoke.

The truth is my apartment isn’t anything special. I spend way too much time over at the Head Cupid’s mansion. God, I’m probably such a burden for them to have over there. They just want to do cute throuple things and here comes Candy, organizing their pantry and folding their clothes for the millionth time.

I swallow and look at the two men, who are sharing a look I can’t decipher.

“You could get changed and I could take you both to the North Pole?” Krampus offers.

“Really?” I ask.

“Of course, there are no expectations for tonight. You’re in charge.”

I snort-laugh a little and put a hand over my face. Me, Candy, unremarkable cupid, in charge of these two men? It’s laughable, but also exactly what I wanted.

“I think I’d like that very much,” I say.

“All right, let’s get you comfortable and then I’ll show you my home.”

Mortem looks a little on edge about going to a different realm, but if he’s truly against it, he says nothing. We walk up the two flights of stairs to my apartment.

“I don’t spend a lot of time here,” I whisper as I open the door to my rather bare home.

Neither of them complains or judges as they both take a seat at the end of my bed.

“I’ll just go put something comfy on and we can go.” Krampus tilts his head, pointing to a red and white striped package.

“Someone sent you a gift?” Krampus asks.

Both of the men look irritated as I approach the gift and look at the tag.

To Candy,

Merry Christmas. Open this with Mortem and Krampus. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do (which means very little is off the table). Live your sluttiest cupid life tonight.

Love, Gloom

I laugh and shake my head. “It’s a gift from Gloom. I’ll bring it with us.”

Krampus scratches the base of his horns. “Is this Gloom also vying for your affections? I can fight. Does he know that?”

Mortem sighs. “No, he’s just a mischievous reaper that Candy, against all odds, finds endearing.”

I place my hands on my hips, Mortem’s jacket no longer hiding my modesty.

“Gloom is my best friend. Mischievous, yes. But he was there when you two weren’t, so I will not let you talk poorly about him. Is that understood?” I ask.

I swear a flush takes over Mortem’s cheeks, but he nods.

“Understood. I apologize. In my defense, I don’t like any reapers on a personal level, if that helps,” Mortem says.

It makes me smirk.

“What about Krampus?” I ask.

“He isn’t a reaper,” Mortem replies, and I smile.

“All right, you two just sit tight.” I point at them as I grab a pajama set and slip into the bathroom.

I stare at myself in the mirror and lock eyes with my reflection.

“You’re a badass cupid. You’re full of feminine rage and inspiration. Those two gigantic men outside want to worship you. They want this as bad as you do, don’t live in fear, Candy.”

There’s a knock on the door, and I jump.

“Candy, darling, are you okay in there?” Krampus asks.

“Yeah. Fine, I’ll be right out,” I shout back.

I point at my reflection one more time, just doubling down on my little inspirational moment.

As I change into my pajamas, I wonder if I should have chosen something sexier. It’s a simple pink pair of pajamas with pieces of candy printed all over them. Cupiō got them for me last year for Valentine’s Day.

I splash some water on my face and look at my hair. It’s a little out of control from the sleigh ride, but it doesn’t look bad, so I leave it.

When I exit the bathroom, both of the men look at me affectionately. They don’t look at me like I’m covered from head to toe in silk. They look at me like I have the most expensive lingerie on.

This is it. This is my leap of faith into relationships.

What kind of cupid would I be if I gave up my chance for love, if I let fear get in the way of my happiness?

I glance at Krampus, who has stains on his suit, and I presume he used his sleeve to wipe his face.

Mortem looks put together as always. I grab his jacket and hand it back to him. He shakes his head.

“Leave it here. It’s my favorite one. I’d never want to be away from it long,” he says.

I can’t help but smile. That’s the type of reassurance I need. Sure, it’s a stupid jacket, but it’s a promise in its own way: he isn’t going to cut and run.

“Is there anything else you need before we go?” Krampus asks.

“Can one of you grab the gift? Then I think I’m ready.”

Mortem stands, his height always intimidating as he bends down and grabs the package. I have to hold back a giggle with how precious he looks holding the wrapped box.

Krampus comes between us, holding each of our hands as he portals us to his home in the North Pole.

We’re dropped in front of a gorgeous cottage surrounded by a thick blanket of snow. His home is wrapped in chunky colored lights, and I can see the Christmas tree lit up in his living room.

This was definitely not what I expected his home to look like. It seems sweet and cozy.

I glance up at Mortem, and his jaw ticks slightly. I don’t ask him what’s bothering him, as Krampus leads us inside.

It’s small, but precious. A fireplace is crackling next to the tree, where Mortem places the gift and he takes a seat on the large green velvet couch.

“I’m going to shower, help yourselves to anything in the kitchen.” Krampus says. I tilt my head as I look at him.

He glances at Mortem, and my heart flutters. He’s purposefully giving me a moment with the reaper. I smile at Krampus as he heads in the opposite direction toward his bathroom. I can hear the shower start, and I turn, sitting on my leg so I can face Mortem.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

“I can’t give you this. My home in Purgatory is plain, simple, and devoid of personality,” he says.

I hate to admit it, but it’s refreshing knowing that I’m not the only insecure one.

Going off instinct, I scoot closer to him, resting my hand on his thigh.

“Why don’t you think you deserve anything good?” I whisper.

His eyes meet mine and I wonder how many people Mortem confides in, or how often he feels like he can let his guard down.

“My life is consumed with death, of managing those who collect souls. I have to be rigid because that’s what this life demands, or at least that’s what I thought. I’m the Head Reaper, Candy. Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah, you’re in charge of your realm,” I say quickly. I mean, that’s what Cupiō does.

“It’s more than that. I was the first reaper; I chose how Purgatory would be run; I am the reason so many reapers have fled to Cupidale looking for peace and love. I’m not a good man, Candy, I don’t deserve you or happiness. I’ve created a fucking mess of everything.”

“Hey,” I say, unable to help myself as I crawl into his lap. He looks shocked by my movement, but he places his hands on my hips anyway.

His face is full of emotion. I’m not sure anyone else has seen him this vulnerable before.

“That’s a lot of guilt to place on yourself, Mortem. I haven’t been to Purgatory, but from what Gloom says he doesn’t dislike it. He doesn’t blame you, neither do any of the reapers I’ve met. Cupidale is different, cupids are different, it doesn’t mean we’re better. Our job is spreading love, yours is giving grace and reassurance to their path to the afterlife. That’s not an easy job, neither is carrying all this weight. If you’re not happy with how you handled things in Purgatory, then change them. Don’t ruin a good thing because you don’t feel like you deserve it.”

“But how can I? How can I change things? How can I let myself have you when I’ve done so much damage?”

“What about what I deserve?” I ask him, and he blinks at me.

“What?”

“I don’t want you to think about this in terms of what you deserve. I want you to think about me and what I deserve.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, and his eyes don’t stray from mine.

“You deserve the world,” he says.

I smile, placing a finger under his chin, my nail likely digging into his skin ever so slightly.

“Then give it to me.”